Right There With You
by candy4yourEYEZ
Summary: Romano is finally happy with Spain, but his brother is pissed. North Italy can't stand his brother having something that Feliciano doesn't. This does not bode well for Antonio and Lovino. Everyone loves evil!Feli


Romano was walking with Spain on a deserted beach, hand in hand, and for once, wasn't scowling. He had the one he loved, wasn't owned by any other countries, and his annoying brother had finally found someone else to bug. His life was perfect, and even if there were issues in the world today, it was nothing like how they used to be. There were no huge world wars, no plagues, nothing that would split Romano and Spain apart ever again. He turned his face up to the sun, and let a smile brighten his expression.

Feliciano was watching them both, his face contorted by fury and jealousy. No. No. His brother couldn't have Spain. It wasn't fair. His brother couldn't have anything he didn't. He, Feli, was North Italy, he was better than his afterthought of a brother. HE was supposed to be the special one, Grandpa Rome had said so. Sure, he had Germany, but Spain should be his too! Spain wanted him instead of his brother before, why didn't he want him now? Spain was his first. Romano couldn't have Spain, he couldn't! And Feliciano was going to make sure that he didn't.

Romano thought he heard something that sounded like a gun being cocked, and instinctively pulled Spain behind the nearest outcropping of dune grass.

"Lovi?" Spain looked confused, and had a right to be. His Lovi~ had just randomly pulled him behind the not very covering beach foliage, and if he wanted privacy for a make-out session, even Spain could find some better spots. "Lovi, what's happening?"

"Shh!" Romano put his free hand over Spain's mouth, effectively shutting him up. And somehow, the abnormally dense Spaniard sensed that this would not be the time to lick Romano's hand. He could do that later. "I thought I heard a gun…"

"Oh, it's just Feli!" Spain pulled Romano's hand away from his mouth, and stood up waving, to Romano's horror. "Feli~!"

"Antonio!" Feliciano grinned back, but Romano could see the underlying, crazed tinge in his eyes.

"No! Antonio, you idiot!" Romano shoved Spain to the side, pushing him into a sand dune as the first bullet hit. "Fuck…" he clutched his shoulder, feeling the blood, warm and smooth. "Feliciano, you sorry bastard," Romano hissed, turning all his previously concealed hatred and sorrow on his brother. He walked closer, despite the obvious stupidity of the action, but some things had to be said that Spain couldn't hear.

"What is it,_ fratello_?" Feliciano's voice was light and cheerful, even though he'd just shot his own brother.

"You jackass," Romano growled, "don't fucking hurt Antonio. You're fucking sick, you know that!" His voice held outrage, and hate, and pain, sorrow… love? "Antonio's **mine**, you have your fucking potato bastard. Just stay away from the one thing in my life that isn't **yours**. Please, Feliciano, don't do this. Nothing good will come of it!"

"But what would be the fun in that?" Feliciano tilted his head. "It's not nice for you to steal, Lovi~."

"Don't call me that, you fucker. Put your fucking gun down, now. You can't just shoot me! I'm begging, Feliciano, _please_. Just because it isn't yours doesn't mean you can ruin it! Feli, you don't really want this, Feli, my real _fratello_, I know you're in there! Please Feli, don't try to hurt Antonio or me." Romano reached over and grabbed Feliciano's wrist, scared beyond anything he'd admit at his brother's insane smile.

"But, Lovi," a light that was against all things holy filled his eyes. "Then I would lose."

And, with that last comment, he swung the gun up with a speed and skill no one knew he possessed, and pressed the muzzle to Romano's chest.

"_Ciao, fratello_."

Romano fell slowly, crumpled to the ground, blood staining his green shirt, turning it a deep rusty color. His eyes were open, staring at the sky, his mouth opened, midway through forming his last words.

_Te amo_. But…

Who were they meant for?

The brunette who opened his hand and let the gun fall to the sand, then sank to his knees, tears running silently down his face at the realization of what he'd done? Who was shaking his brother, saying he was sorry, and that he loved him, and to please come back, he hadn't _known_… Whose brief seconds of sobriety were once again cloaked by hatred, as he laughed in a sick joy that he was beautifully alone, that his brother was there no more.

Or the one that had stumbled over to the brothers, whose green eyes were open wide in shock, failing to really understand, letting out a choked sob as he shivered in the sudden breeze? Who whispered for his love to come back, that they were supposed to have forever? Who glared at the one who dropped the gun, vowing inside that he would get him back, that his little Feli wasn't safe anymore.

The one who didn't care if he started another world war, who was going to find a way to revenge his Lovi, whose previously astonished green eyes now burned with a fury beyond comprehension.

Who knew that the only way to get back at Feliciano was to take away everything to him.

Who intended to do just that. Who could feel a coolness settling over his shoulders, like someone he knew that liked to slump across them when he was tired. Who heard a voice, a painfully familiar voice, whispering in his head:

_I'll be right there with you._

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Authoress' Random Ramble

yes, yes, another evil!Feli fic. I couldn't resist, really ^^ I just... enjoy torturing people? *sobs* I'M SORRY

Have I ever mentioned that your reviews make me giggle?

Like the Pillsbury Doughboy.

less than three. less than three


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